


Reperire Regem

by Yanara126



Series: Waidwen [4]
Category: Pillars of Eternity
Genre: Angst, Because Guys can be soft too without being gay, Canon-Typical Violence, Divine King Waidwen from an outside perspective, Eothas doesn't talk, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I just don't really like writing romantic relationships in general, I just don't write it as gay, I mean you can read it as gay, I will finish it, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Male Friendship, Male Intimicy, Mercenary Character, Pre-Canon, Readceras, Religion, Someday, Waidwen really needed a friend, but he's here, cursing, irregular updates, no judgement though, so I made him one
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:20:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25737178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yanara126/pseuds/Yanara126
Summary: Broder really should've gotten out of this before he started to care about the guy being possessed by a god.And yet, for some reason, he can't really regret not doing so.or5 times Broder found Waidwen (and 1 time he did not)
Relationships: Eothas & Waidwen (Pillars of Eternity), Waidwen & Original Male Character
Series: Waidwen [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1854808
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	1. Daffodil

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be honest, I have no idea when I'm going to finish this. I really want to, and I will, I have a rough outline for every chapter, but it's gonna take a bit. I've been sitting on this thing months now though, and I really wanted to get it out. I just really think Waidwen needs a friend. His life was so horrible, I wanted to make it at least a little better. And worse, as you'll see later. The second one is technically finished, but still needs some fine tuning.
> 
> Have fun with this first chapter!

Broder stalked through the halls of Readceras Castle, reinforced boots clanking as he stomped like a toddler throwing a tantrum. He had no idea how he’d gotten himself into the position of royal babysitter, yet here he was. Not that anyone would ever dare call him that. He was the esteemed royal knight Sir Broder. He had to actually snort at that thought, even through his sour mood. A mercenary turned royal knight, that idea could only come from a guy possessed.

A guy he’d very much like to punch in the face right now. The ‘Divine King’ as he was called, had been supposed to show up at a meeting two hours ago. He had, in fact, not done that, and so Broder had been left to deal with a bunch of miffed nobles. God or not, they hadn’t been happy to just be stood up. And neither had Broder.

Which meant he was now looking for his royal assholeness, to drag him back by the ear preferably. He’d spent a week with the guy now, and he was already sick of his damn pretentiousness. It was certainly a different kind of pretentiousness than the usual noble kind, but not any less annoying. The speeches he could roll his eyes at and ignore, but this kind of fuckery was something else. The guy better have a damn good explanation at the ready, or Broder would be gone from here yesterday.

Really, he shouldn’t have stayed in the first place. Shiny heads and claims of godhood were probably not a good thing to be around, but he would’ve been lying if he said he wasn’t curious. He’d been there a week ago, when they’d kicked out the governor, hired as a simple guardsman. He’d watched shit go down and hadn’t been dumb enough to try and stop it. For some reason, apparently that was enough to get him a promotion from the new king, because as soon as he’d laid eyes on Broder, he’d claimed him as a knight. For some reason.

He’d accepted, because A, denying someone with a shining head and resonating voice was kinda hard, and B, he didn’t entirely disagree with his actions. The methods were rather strange, but it was true that the people of Readceras had been suffering under the Aedyran rule. He’d been about to resign actually, before the coup happened and he decided to stay. It was one thing to kill people who’d signed up for it, a completely different matter to fight against starving farmers. For now he hadn’t actually regretted that decision, the new king obviously cared about his subjects, as annoying as he got. But that last stunt seriously pissed him off.

Stomping around a corner, Broder suddenly froze at the sight in front of him. A short distance away, the king sat on the floor, back against the wall, completely motionless. For a short second Broder had a heart attack. No matter how pissed he was, he wasn’t quite at the level yet where he wanted the guy dead. Completely beside the fact that a killed king would land on his head sooner or later. But then he saw the slow movement of his chest and relaxed again, feeling his annoyance return, followed a vague sense of concern. He was annoyed that the guy had apparently just fallen asleep, but on the floor in the middle of the hallway?

He moved to get closer to the man on the ground, but stopped again when he felt a weird pressure in his head. It wasn’t exactly painful, but strangely intrusive and warm. From one second to the next, Broder realized what it was and froze. It felt like that day a week ago, when the glowing head had looked at him, identical in fact, and Broder froze completely.

How silly he’d been. The idea of a god, any god, no matter how benevolent they claim to be, scrambling around in his head terrified him. But the pressure didn’t increase. It just shifted uncomfortably and, after a few seconds, let up. It left him strangely exhausted, as if he’d just gone through his training regime.

Cautiously Broder waited, but since nothing more happened, he took another step in the direction of the unconscious man before him. The pressure didn’t return, but a short wave of comfortable warmth spread through his body, which Broder took as permission to come closer.

Carefully he covered the rest of the distance and crouched down before the other man. Up close he could clearly see the soft breathing motions and relaxed face, indicating a deep sleep. He didn’t look like the determined God King anymore, but rather like a very tired young man. Broder remembered what he’d heard, that Waidwen was 26, and had been a simple farmer just weeks ago. It suddenly occurred to him that he’d probably seen more action just in the last year than this man in his entire life.

Broder sighed and ran a hand over his face, feeling his exhaustion increase. The situation made him uncomfortably aware, that his, everyone’s, expectations were ludicrous. It was like giving a sword to an untrained child and expecting them to win a war. And this damned tiredness... He looked at Waidwen again.

“If this is how you feel every day, I’m not surprised you fell asleep on the floor,” he told him quietly, as to not accidently wake him from his sleep. The young man really looked like he needed it. Also, it probably wouldn’t be good to piss off the obviously protective god in him.

“Well, let’s get you off the cold floor and to bed then,” Broder murmured and moved to pick Waidwen up, putting one arm behind his back and one under his knees. When he lifted him up, he was surprised at how light the younger man actually was. Though looking him over again, he probably shouldn’t be, Waidwen was hardly more than skin and bones. Now that he thought about it, he couldn’t actually remember ever watching him eat. Broder frowned.

“Let’s add that to the list of things I need to teach you,” he sighed, looking down at the sleeping man in his arms. Because apparently that was a thing now. But he already knew that he couldn’t just let this man, child really, run into his doom, just because he was unprepared. Broder had no experience with godly possession, but he could at least make sure Waidwen didn’t run himself into the ground.

Carrying Waidwen back to his room, Broder thought that maybe he could live with being the royal babysitter for this king.


	2. Lemon Balm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first official journey of the Divine King doesn't go well and Broder meets both god and man.

It was a beautiful, sunny day and Broder was thoroughly on edge. He knew there was likely no reason to be, there had been no notable issues on this trip yet, but he really wished his king would stop vanishing into thin air.

He was standing in the middle of the village square, arms crossed and tapping his foot, while looking contemplatively around. The villagers were going about their business around him, organizing the evening’s feast, and throwing him nervous looks every once in a while, but he really couldn’t be bothered to give a damn at this moment. He’d sent out the few men that had accompanied them to search the surrounding areas and had personally looked through every building in this damned town and had asked everyone he could get his hands on if they’d seen anything. Of course, no one had. He felt like he was about to chew through his lip soon if nothing turned up.

He couldn’t keep standing here forever though, the villagers had dutifully ignored him for now, but soon they would need the space for the rest of the tables they were carrying here. A few were already laden with delicious smelling food, everything simple and without much diversity, but the best these people could provide.

And the best was only appropriate, as they’d decided. With the newly crowned god king visiting, the whole village was buzzing with excitement. The houses were decorated with religious symbols, either made from rough cloth or painted on, everyone was wearing their best clothes, and of course, a feast to his honours had been planned for tonight.

Now if only said king hadn’t disappeared the second Broder’s back had been turned. With a sigh he resolved to go check the nearby field’s again, before he got hit over the head with a table, and turned around, when a young human woman came up to him, nervously glancing down at his sword and then back to his face.

“Excuse me, sir? I heard you’re looking for... for the king...” She tripped over the words, and from the gleam in her eyes Broder could tell it wasn’t just in fear of him. She swallowed once before continuing: “I saw my sister and her friends going to the forest with him.”

“Oh thank fuck, finally.” With that exclamation of both relief at finally having a lead and still remaining dread over what he would find, he turned around and started off into the direction of the forest right behind the village. Only to stop again when he realized, that was probably not a good impression to make. And unfortunately, impressions were now part of his job. He turned around and nodded to the befuddled looking woman. “Thank you for your help.” She nodded, still intimidated, so he thought it better to just make an exit.

“They usually play by a small hill, behind the church!” He thanked her with another nod and then made for a strategic retreat.

On his way past the houses he felt like he was back in the Living Lands, dodging tables and chairs and the people carrying them like the vines and animals back then. He did not miss those few weeks. The nervous buzz in his body didn’t make the memories any sweeter.

After having escaped the chaos of the village, he found himself before the tree line and a very obvious trail further in. At least he wouldn’t have to search for the way it seemed. Though neither would anyone else, which made Broder’s nerves flare up again. Really, what was the man thinking? Going completely alone was one thing, still far riskier than Broder would like, but with a bunch of children running around, their position would be significantly harder to defend in case of an attack.

With fast steps Broder followed the trail into the forest, the damned purple cape that had been forced on him catching in the trees again and again, and not long after, he began hearing quiet giggling and the sound of small feet tapping over the leaf covered ground. After the trail bent around a particularly large tree, Broder stepped out onto a small clearing at the foot of a hill. In the middle of the clearing was a larger rock, in front of which sat his charge, back against the stone, and patiently letting two children braid his hair, while the third excitedly ran across the grass, picking flowers. It would’ve been cute, if Broder wasn’t still convinced something terrible was going to happen.

The king was no doubt aware of his presence, but made no move to react. With a deep breath so as to not show his displeasure overly much, Broder stiffly walked across the clearing, suspiciously eyeing the tree line. Only once he stood directly before him did Waidwen look up to Broder, eyebrow raised, as if daring him to comment on his position. The children were ignoring the knight completely, apparently having not deemed him worthy of attention, since they already had a willing victim for their artistic outburst. Broder swallowed his rising annoyance before speaking.

“I really wish you would inform me of where you’re going. Your Highness,” he said, voice almost as dry as the Readceran summers. The title he stated deliberately as an afterthought. He didn’t dare omit it completely, but still wanted to voice his irritation somehow.

“That would defeat the purpose of going though.” Waidwen looked away from him again, head held high and staring sightlessly towards the edge of the clearing, yet with a tenseness in his shoulders that betrayed his uncomfortableness. Good, maybe then he’d get it into his head.

“And what purpose is that? To get yourself killed?” That got Waidwen’s attention and his head snapped back to glare at Broder. The kids shrieked as his hair was pulled from their hands, undoing some of their hard work and spilling flowers all over the ground and the rock they were kneeling on. Waidwen only spared them a glance to make sure they hadn’t fallen off before focusing on Broder again.

“We both know that I’m not going to die, even if someone got the drop on me.”

“Even so, what about them? Can you guarantee for their safety too?” Broder nodded to the two children, who’d slid of the boulder to collect and sort their flowers. They were obviously listening, but knew better than to interrupt the heated debate. The elven boy who’d been collecting blossoms before had worked his way to the other side of the clearing, where he was desperately trying to reach one on a tree branch above him.

Waidwen froze and looked over the kids, the stubborn defiance bleeding out of his posture. His eyes grew glassy for a few seconds, concentrating on a voice only he could hear. He blinked a few times and then lowered his gaze to the ground, remaining quiet and stiff, as if awaiting a beating. Broder sighed.

“I don’t do this because I want to bully you, but you need to understand that you’re a target now, as is everyone around you. Aedyr is hardly going to give up and I can promise you, they’re not the only ones who’d love to have you out of the way. Maybe they’re not a threat to you, but they are to others and I can’t protect anyone if I don’t know where you are.” Broder made sure to soften his voice a bit while still remaining stern enough to get his point across. He really didn’t want to needlessly antagonize his king, especially since he looked more like a kicked puppy than a god king. “Look, back in the castle I’m sure we can figure something out so you don’t have me constantly breathing down your neck, but please don’t sneak off anymore when we’re in middle of nowhere.”

Waidwen nodded, reluctantly pulling himself up again, when a loud shriek and a thump sounded from other side of the clearing. Both Waidwen and Broder quickly turned around, to see the elven boy sitting on the ground, an arrow stuck in the tree right in front of his nose.

Without wasting time Broder unsheathed his sword and made to run over, but Waidwen was faster. With a speed Broder couldn’t help but be impressed by he jumped up and sprinted to the child, just so managing to pull him out of the way of the next arrow. After a millisecond of hesitation Broder remained with the other two and pulled them behind the boulder for cover, pushing them down and out of reach, at least for now. He highly doubted there was only one attacker, and he cursed himself for letting himself be distracted. He glanced around, but focused immediately back on his actual charge, who had picked up the boy by now and was running back to the rock as a defendable cover, face tight with concentration and guilt. Broder just wished he hadn’t been quite so right with his suspicions. Waidwen was almost back when Broder spotted an assailant.

“Down!” he yelled, and Waidwen dropped without a second’s hesitation, arms around the crying boy to shield him from the fall. With only a hair’s breadth of distance a fireball flew over his head, hitting the rock and scorching its surface.

Before Broder could jump to his aid and pull him up again, two hooded fighters came at him from the other direction, forcing him to shift around and meet them head on, to not let them reach the kids behind him. As much as it pained him to turn away from his actual charge, the king had been right. He could hold his own if necessary. Hopefully. The children could not.

He parried one blade and immediately pulled away to block the other one, grunting from the strain. Whoever these people were, they were no slouches, but Broder was better. He had to be.

He fought for every little piece of space, not letting them get any closer, but it was already starting to wear him out. Two against one wasn’t easy, and he also had to dodge the occasional arrow, yet couldn’t rely on his usual method of out-dodging his opponents. The scrapes from near misses were starting to pile up too, hindering his movement further. He had to think of something soon.

Behind him Broder could hear terrified sniffles and strained grunts interspersed with sounds of steel clashing and scraping, which told him Waidwen was busy with attackers as well. At least that meant he hadn’t failed yet, and with new determination he went on the offensive.

Then a blood curling scream sounded from behind him, causing Broder to almost freeze up. He barely caught himself and managed to stab one of his assailants in the gut, who had dropped his guard just long enough to look over to the scream’s source. The other one immediately fell back and moved further around Broder. That gave him the chance to turn as well, after pulling his sword out of the now lifeless body, without letting his opponent out of sight, and check what had happened.

What he saw almost made his heart stop. Waidwen stood facing the boulder, leaning on it with one shaking arm, with the other still limply holding the dagger Broder had insisted he carry. Beneath him, curled up in a shaking ball, lay one of the children and behind him stood a tall aumaua whose hood had fallen off, revealing a crazed, triumphant grin. The reason for it wasn’t hard to guess. In Waidwen’s back stuck an axe, plunged in so deep the blood was already running down his back in rivers, though the blade was still blocking the worst of it. His face was scrunched up in agony, breaths shallow and pained.

Broder was still desperately calculating how he could possibly still save his king and preferably the children, when the question was answered for him. With a furious roar Waidwen started glowing like Broder hadn’t seen since the coronation. His whole body was alight, not softly this time, but harshly, eyes burning with divine fury.

Broder watched with wide eyes as the god, for it couldn’t be anything else, grabbed behind himself and pulled the axe plunged in his back out without even a flinch, and let both it and the dagger fall to the ground unheeded. When he turned his attention to the would-be-assassins the rest of the world started to move again.

The now weaponless axe-bearer stumbled back, making space for the swordsman Broder had faced off against and the wizard a bit further back. The archer was still nowhere in sight. Broder stepped forward, intending to take care of the man before he could procure another weapon or flee, but once again his king was faster. With a flick of his arm a blinding light enveloped the attacker and he crumpled without even getting a chance to scream. The swordsman took the opportunity though and swung at his midsection, which he just barely dodged, almost slipping on his own blood which had soaked the leaves on the ground.

The scuffle that followed had nothing skilled about it anymore and Broder wanted to cringe. The hooded swordsman had given up on any semblance of elegance and was just barely managing to dodge the waves of energy that had already felled their companion. The only reason they were still alive and even managed the occasional hit, was that Waidwen had obviously no combat training whatsoever. A god he may be, but his attacker was obviously very determined and skilled enough to trick him again and again into missing with his random and clumsy swings.

The wizard was keeping their distance, preparing a spell while avoiding becoming a target. The archer was still shooting, but as they were now aiming exclusively at the god, who swatted the arrows away as if they were merely insects, Broder reluctantly decided to ignore them for now. After a short look at the sobbing but otherwise unharmed children, he went for the wizard.

The sudden show of power had apparently waned their attention, for they only noticed him once he had already reached them. They managed to block Broder’s swing with their grimoire, but the spell they had been preparing fizzled out harmlessly. With their attention divided between trying to hit Waidwen and defending themselves against him, it didn’t take Broder too long to get behind their defences and finish them off with a well-placed swipe across the throat. After kicking the grimoire away from the corpse for good measure to avoid any last bursts of magic, he turned around to see what he’d missed.

The fight was still going on, though both parties seemed to grow increasingly more frustrated and uncontrolled. Just as Broder stepped forward to assist, an arrow managed to lodge itself in the god’s shoulder, causing him to growl in frustration and whirl around towards the tree line. For a second the light glowed even stronger and apparently the god king saw something Broder didn’t, for he raised his hand again and with a thump a body fell out of one of the higher trees. That movement however gave the other attacker enough time to swing their sword in a way that Broder was sure would cut the king’s head clean off if it connected, god or not.

With speed born purely from desperation Broder jumped forward and rammed right into the other fighter, who lost their grip on their weapon and instinctively tried to shove him off, to no avail. Having dropped his own sword in favour of speed, he pulled a knife from the hidden sheath on his thigh and slashed their throat before they had chance for a meaningful struggle.

Heaving for breath, he waited a few seconds to be sure they wouldn’t get back up again and then turned around to check on the others, to find the god king completely motionless and staring at him. Broder froze even as blood uncomfortably soaked through his clothes, uncertain about what to do. He’d only seen something like this once before, at the coup and back then he’d been the centre of attention only long enough to mutter a short yes before the focus had shifted. When the god took a step in his direction, Broder had to suppress a flinch. Though he had no reason to believe the being would hurt him, the glowing, the pupilless, shining eyes and the blank stare were more than unsettling. The fact that he’d just seen the being kill just by waving at people certainly didn’t help.

The god stopped in his tracks though, and after a second or two the light faded, taking with it a pressure in the air Broder hadn’t even noticed in his adrenalin fuelled state. Waidwen swayed on his feet and then dropped to his hands and knees, heaving for breath. When he let out a tight groan, Broder’s thoughts snapped back into the usual post battle rhythm and he remembered the arrow stuck in Waidwen’s shoulder. Shaking himself out of his stupor and pushing away all unhelpful feelings of anger and fear, he got off the slowly cooling body he’d still been sitting on and knelt down next to Waidwen, pushing him up as gently as possibly, so as to not disturb the arrow. Waidwen didn’t object and let himself be manhandled into an upright position any resistance, but Broder still didn’t dare remove his hand, in fear he would just fall right over again. With a quizzical gaze Broder inspected the wound. The tip had sunken into the flesh completely, not quite out the back again, leaving a bloodied hole beneath the collar bone.

“Just pull it out, it’ll heal right up.” Broder looked up at hearing the tense words, seeing Waidwen still stare very deliberately away from him.

“It’s not gonna be pretty. I’ll have to shove it through the rest of the way, which will hurt like a bitch and bleed like it too. You sure it’ll heal immediately?” It wasn’t like he thought the other man was lying, but he also didn’t want to risk his king bleeding out on the forest floor because he had miscalculated his own healing abilities.

“Yes. The sooner it’s out, the sooner it’ll stop bleeding, just do it already.” Broder didn’t think Waidwen ever separated his teeth saying that sentence, and so decided to stop wasting time with questions. He broke off the tail the end of the arrow, eliciting a sharp exhale from Waidwen, and then positioned them in a sort of awkward hug, so he had a good grip on the remaining arrow and the back of Waidwen’s shoulder, where the tip would come out. Broder could feel Waidwen tense even more against him, and though that was hardly ideal he couldn’t exactly blame him for it. From this close Broder could feel the other man’s heartbeat sounding like that of a skittish rabbit and in an awkward attempt to calm him down a bit patted his shoulder, while breathing slowly and deliberately. The tensing he could compensate for with more strength if need be, but if he started twitching while he was holding the arrow shaft it could move the tip and injure him even further.

“On three. One, two-“ And with as much strength as he could muster in this strange position he shoved the arrow through. As soon as the tip was out on the other side, he grabbed it and pulled it out completely. The whole thing didn’t take long, but Broder knew from experience that it still hurt like crazy and so wasn’t surprised when Waidwen screamed into his ear as soon as he shoved. He had to give it to him though, even through the pain and no doubt fear, he didn’t move even a little, remaining completely still through the ordeal.

Broder hastily threw the arrow away and they remained on the ground for a while longer. Waidwen slumped over bonelessly, leaning heavily on Broder’s shoulder, who watched in morbid fascination as the wound he’d just made started glowing and healed shut in a matter of seconds. Much like the axe wound must have, for even though the shirt was torn up and bloody, no fresh blood welled up. He didn’t budge though, even after the hole in Waidwen’s shoulder was healed, and just waited patiently until Waidwen would calm down enough to get up on his own, keeping a steady grip on the young man. They sat in silence, just shamelessly soaking in the comfort of being assured they both survived, of feeling the other’s warmth and weight, for a moment forgetting that they were, in all honesty, strangers. The blood that soaked through his torn shirt stuck to his hand, filling the air with even more of the metallic tang Broder had grown too used to. Judging from the retching sound, Waidwen was very much not used to it.

After a while Waidwen lifted his head, looking over the carnage, brooding so hard Broder could almost hear the wheels turning in his head. He kept his hand on the younger man’s shoulder, letting him absorb the situation. Broder knew enough to conclude that this was his first deadly battle, and the first kill was never easy, no matter how it was done.

Suddenly Waidwen gasped with alarm and whirled around, still on his knees peering over to the boulder, where the three children huddled together, quietly sobbing, but all very much alive. Looking everywhere but Broder he got up and walked over to them, hand outstretched to do what Broder wasn’t sure, but instead of calming down the kids only cried louder and inched away. Waidwen froze, obviously unsure about what to do. He had that strange, far-off look again for a second and then hesitantly backed off.

Broder sighed and wiped his sticky with blood hand on his pants. It was ruined anyway. The reaction of the children hardly surprised him, frankly he too was quite unsettled about what had happened, no wonder they were scared out of their wits. Time to do emotional damage control...

Waidwen was still standing around awkwardly, looking again like a kicked and abandoned puppy, and Broder really needed to talk to him about that at some point, but for now a pat on the shoulder and a reassuring look would have to be enough. Thankfully, it seemed like it was and Waidwen relaxed, nodding defeatedly, but apparently accepting the situation and stepped back further to allow Broder to deal with the traumatized children.

Fortunately, they took to him better than to Waidwen, and Broder spent the next minutes crouched on the ground, arms full with three sobbing children, doing his best to console them while still keeping an eye on his surroundings and his charge. He could already feel the headache coming. But better a headache than dead children or kings.

After a while of shushing, rubbing backs and, in Waidwen’s case, sightless staring into nothing that probably shouldn’t concern Broder as much it did considering who was doing it, he picked up the child crying the most, the elven boy Waidwen had taken an axe for. He lifted him on his back, told him to hold on and took the other two by the hand. Though he doubted anyone else would come for them right now, remaining here, surrounded by corpses, wasn’t going to do anyone any favours. He would have preferred to search the bodies immediately, but that would have to wait until his king was safe.

“Wai- Your Majesty?” He cursed himself for the slip of his tongue, but it was just so hard right now to remember this was a king in front of him, and not a fresh recruit on his first battlefield. Said king flinched a little at his words, yet all of a sudden, all the gloom, all the helplessness, all the misery fell off him. Where before his posture was hunched and closed off, now it was open and confident, the epitome of the god king he was heralded as.

“Let’s go.” And go he did, with a stride so determined and self-assured no one would be able to guess that just a minute ago he’d looked ready throw up.

Broder could only blink at the sudden change in demeanour. He was so bewildered, he only came out of his stupor when the little girl holding his hand pulled him along, since Waidwen himself had already reached the tree line and the small trail. With a start Broder hurried after him, determined not to let himself be distracted again, at least until they were safely back at the village, where other people could stand guard while he devised a strategy to respectfully inquire about his king’s mental state.

When he got closer to Waidwen he noticed something else that was off. He seemed... shiny. Not radiant like before, but far more subtle. His hair was slightly lighter than it should’ve been, both in colour and in weight, making the remnants of the braid bounce just enough to be noticeable. Even the torn flower petals still tangled in his locks looked livelier than before.

Waidwen turned around and Broder almost shuddered when he saw his eyes. They were as shiny as the rest of him and it made Broder far more uncomfortable than he wanted to admit. He knew the reason behind it, knew that there was no malicious intent in those eyes, but still they unsettled him. There was something wrong about their cool confidence, when he knew the young man they belonged to as anything but.

When he turned away again Broder was ashamed to be glad for it. He wanted to walk the way in silence, just focus on their surroundings so something like before wouldn’t happen again, but he was sure that as soon as they were back in the village they would be jumped by the villagers and he feared there would be no calm minute for the rest of the day. There were some things that needed to be said before.

“Your majesty, I suggest we return to the capital first thing tomorrow.” Broder steeled himself for protest, yet nothing came. Waidwen just continued walking without giving any reaction. Broder frowned. “Your majesty?”

“I heard you.” Waidwen still didn’t turn, his voice calm and distant, and Broder sighed. Though the young man hid behind that mask of his, Broder could recognize that kind of behaviour. He was sulking.

“I know you wanted to check the fields yourself, but it’s just too dangerous. We’ll find someone else to do it. You’re hardly the only capable farmer around here.” The silence continued, only interrupted by the occasional sniffle, and Broder reluctantly decided to leave it for now. He’d said his piece and pressuring him would hardly sway the young king in his favour.

They walked the rest of the way, out of the forest behind the church again without any disruption. The bustling from the townspeople could be heard even back here, making Broder realize that even though he felt about a decade older, not much time had really passed.

Waidwen came to a halt at the corner and looked down at himself. Broder stopped next to him and quietly agreed with what his king’s scrunched up face clearly portrayed. Him walking out there with torn and bloodied clothes was not a good idea. For both them and the morale of the villagers.

With obvious uncertainty and a slight tense in his shoulders Waidwen turned to Broder, eyebrows raised questioningly. Broder gave a short hum and considered their options. The tiny inn where their group was lodged was placed right in the centre of the village, in plain view of everyone in the town square, which in this moment was essentially everyone. After some deliberation he turned to his king.

“How good are you at sneaking?” Waidwen gave him a doubtful look.

“Not good enough to sneak through that.” Broder just cocked his head, unimpressed. “Acceptable, I guess,” Waidwen finally conceded. Broder nodded.

“Good. I’ll give you five minutes to go around and get behind the inn. Then I’ll go find the kids’ parents, make a bit of scene.” Which shouldn’t be too hard what with the now completely silent and disturbed children, and his also bloodied clothes. He raised his hand, which was now free as the human girl had latched onto his leg instead, and patted the elven boys head a little, who was holding so tightly onto him, Broder was almost fearing for his air supply. “While everyone’s busy with me, you can sneak in behind them.”

The king hesitated a little, giving the children a worried look, but then nodded and quietly slunk away, vanishing around the other side of the little church.

The next five minutes were… tense. Not in the way of expecting another attack, but more because Broder didn’t really know how to handle the kids, beyond just physical affirmation. He could hold them all day if necessary, but somehow, he knew that just wasn’t going to cut it. Most young recruits were at least somewhat prepared for their first battle, those who weren’t didn’t typically survive them. Those young recruits who lived got a chance to blab their problems to someone, a cup full of whatever alcohol was available in the region, and then usually fell into bed with whoever was down for it.

That wasn’t going to apply in this situation for obvious reasons. Although… maybe he could at least start with the first part. Talking was a good idea, right?

“You know, it’s okay to talk about it. You don’t need to with me, you don’t need to now, but don’t bottle it up if you want to, okay?” he said, using the calmest voice he could muster with the elven boy still pressing his wind pipe shut. After few seconds of quiet waiting, he could feel the human girl nod against his leg, the child still clinging to his other side hummed a little, and even the elven boy on his shoulders moved in a way that Broder was willing to identify as a nod.

Not wanting to prove himself a hypocrite he remained silent for the next minutes. After he deemed enough time had passed, he squared his shoulders, gently pried the girl off his leg and took her hand again, and made his way to the town’s square.

* * *

Finally, after answering the same two questions (“What happened?” and “Is the king all right?) over and over again, he had been able to flee into the inn. Leaning against the wall next to the entrance he took a breath, only to immediately gag. The stench of his bloody clothes had only become worse with time and with the blood having dried, they were sticking to his skin as well now. Exasperated he lifted a hand to drag through he his hair only to stop himself at the last second and grimace. While he had wiped his hand, blood was stubborn and getting it into his hair as well would not make his life easier.

With a sigh he pushed off the wall and started making his way up the stairs to the private rooms. He slept in the common room downstairs, together with his soldiers, but handing back the children, calming the villagers and ordering his troupe to clean up the mess they’d left behind had taken longer than expected. He longed to peel off the filthy shell his clothes had become, but first he needed to make sure his king’s emotional crisis was managed. Preferably without any divine incinerations. He didn’t think that would be a problem, but… A frown creased his face as he remembered the fight. Better not risk it…

Standing in front of the door leading to his king’s room, he found nothing but silence. Whether that was good or bad he couldn’t say. Tugging on his blood crusted shirt to make himself at least a little more presentable, he knocked on the door.

“Come in.” Following the muted invitation Broder pushed the door open and stepped into the room. The only piece of furniture in the room was a crude wooden bed with coarse bedding that was halfway hanging off the frame. On it sat Waidwen leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, still in the filthy trousers and staring at his ruined shirt in his hands. Seeing him like this made it even harder for Broder to reconcile the shining god king incinerating his enemies with the young man in front of him. With his shirt off it was all the more obvious how skinny he really was. The loose shirt usually obscured the details, but now Broder could see his skin stretch taut across his ribs, and once again he was reminded just how much the people of this country had suffered. Automatically Broder’s eyes shifted to Waidwen’s shoulder, where not long ago an arrow had stuck. Not even a scar remained, the skin completely unblemished.

Suddenly something hit him in the face, and for a second Broder was terrified he’d again missed an attacker, but the second went by, and he noticed that what had landed on him was a fresh, woollen shirt. Pulling it off his head he saw a small but smug grin on Waidwen’s face, his hand still raised from the throw.

“You look about as shitty as I feel.” Broder had to snort at the pure absurdity of the moment. He tugged on the cloth sticking to his chest, causing it to make a vague cracking sound and Waidwen cringed, pure disgust radiating off him as the divine energy had before. “Please wash that off, I get nauseous just listening to that.” He nodded to something next to him and Broder’s eyes fell on a bowl filled with water, for which the bedding had been shoved to the side. A wet cloth hung over the side.

He hesitated, but quickly pushed the doubts aside. He’d been ordered to clean up, so clean up is what he’d do. It wasn’t like this was any stranger than what he’d been doing for the last few weeks.

So he put the shirt to the side and pulled his filthy one off with considerably more cracking of the soiled fabric. Lacking an appropriate place to leave it, he threw it into a corner to take away later. The washcloth was already a bit spotty, clearly having been used, but still clean enough to do its job, as was the water. Wiping himself off the worst of the blood and grime, he stared at the darkened water, dimly wondering how much of the red belonged to the young man next to him, who was once again staring at his torn-up shirt. Tears that had been caused by an axe burying itself in his back. Which reminded him…

As soon as he didn’t feel quite so sticky anymore, Broder soaked the cloth in water again and turned to Waidwen.

“Turn around real quick, would you.” Waidwen looked him, suddenly tense again and leaning slightly away, and Broder could see suspicion rise in his eyes. Though it was hardly his business, he did wonder what experiences could make this simple request seem so worthy of distrust.

“Why?”

“Because you’ve had an axe in your back and I’d like to make sure it’s really healed. Besides, I doubt you got all the blood off from there.” The blood mixed in the water and on the cloth seemed not nearly enough for the amount he’d seen gush out from the wound, and though he’d watched the wound in his shoulder heal in a matter of seconds right before his eyes, he’d still prefer to make sure. He never had been one for magic, much less gods. Not that he actively disliked them, but it’s hard to trust something you yourself have no true understanding of.

“It’s fine.” Some of the tension bled out of Waidwen’s posture, but he still kept himself guarded with his back angled away from Broder. The insistence did nothing to assure Broder of the words’ truth. He’d seen too many fresh recruits hide their wounds out of a misplaced sense of pride.

“Just let me check to make sure.” It was almost like trying to talk down an abused cat, which made the situation all the more surreal. Though weird as it was, it wasn’t technically new. The only difference was that he’d certainly never done that with an employer.

“You think I’m lying?” Waidwen narrowed his eyes.

“No, I just don’t think you can turn your head like an owl.” Broder frowned, making sure to exaggerate the movement for effect. “That’d be a weird skill to get from the god of light.” Waidwen let out a short breath that might’ve been a laugh. Possibly. Hopefully.

All of a sudden, the tension in the room changed. It didn’t leave, but refracted into something else, something Broder was eerily familiar with by now. An uncanny weight settled around them, though this time it thankfully didn’t touch him. Instead Waidwen just got this strange, faraway, and oddly sparkling look in his eyes again, as he stared off into the middle distance. Feeling awkward and this time lacking any other task Broder could only wait for the moment to pass, the wet washcloth still in hand, which was slowly dripping onto the floorboards. It was strangely uncomfortable to know that someone directly in front of him was talking to someone else that he couldn’t hear, even more so as he knew who, and especially what, he was talking to. It wasn’t quite as unsettling as seeing him blaze and rip people’s souls out, but in the end, it came down to the same source.

Thankfully, it didn’t take too long for the weight to lift again, but not before brushing over the surface of Broder’s consciousness, as light and warm as the spring sun, and with just as much potential to burn if he strayed too close. He let it pass over, keeping as still as possible, all too aware that any defence would be useless at best. Then it was over, and with the presence Waidwen’s resistance seemed to leave as well, as his shoulders dropped, and he just sagged into himself.

“Fine,” he muttered and scooted forward on the bed, just enough to make space for Broder. Not wanting to risk him changing his mind, Broder kept quiet about what had just happened and carefully slid behind him, pulling the bowl along.

Giving him a quick once over, Broder had to admit Waidwen had done a good job cleaning himself up. A few rusty red patches remained where had no chance of reaching them himself, but the majority of the blood that must’ve coated him was already gone. With quick movements he wiped off the few bloody spots left, taking note of the way the muscles clenched under his hand.

With the way Waidwen’s back looked it didn’t surprise him. The axe wound hadn’t left a trace, much like the arrow hadn’t, but instead his skin was littered with other scars, thin, white lines stretching over different lengths, scattered all over his back. All of them were faded and clearly at least a few years old already, perhaps more. They covered nearly all of the skin from his shoulder blades down to the waistband of his pants and were far too numerous to be of only one occasion.

Broder refrained from commenting or reacting at all, steadily continuing to gently wash away the proof of the prior massacre. While he himself did not carry such scars, he’d known others who had, and none had appreciated any mention of them. These weren’t marks of bravery or heroism won in honest battles to be proudly shown off around the campfire, but rather reminders of suffering the bearer hadn’t been able to defend themselves against.

Once he was finished, he threw the cloth into the bowl, moved out from behind Waidwen and sat himself beside him on the edge of the bed, leaving a bit of space between them. Though he wouldn’t mention the scars, still he’d come here for something else. How to broach the subject though… With the way Waidwen still sat completely rigid, Broder doubted he wanted to talk about it, much less with him.

Sitting in complete silence and watching the young man out of the corner of his eyes, seeing how clearly uncomfortable he was, Broder made the decision to take a leap of faith. Waidwen had taken a risk with turning his back to him, even though he clearly didn’t trust him that much. Taking a risk as well could be just the show trust needed in this moment. It might not make everything better at once, but a groundwork of trust was what kept mercenaries alive, both on the battlefield and off, so why shouldn’t it help now?

Very much aware of the uneasy gaze still following his every move, he untied the flask hanging from his belt and took a big swig from it, letting the liquid burn down his throat. When he was done, he offered it to Waidwen, the strong smell coming from the open lid identifying it as something very clearly not state sanctioned.

For a while Waidwen just stared at it with an incredulous look, and Broder began to fear he’d made a mistake, but then, the incredulity giving way to determination, Waidwen took it. Leaning his head back he took a big gulp-

Only to immediately choke on the liquor and harshly cough up the little liquid he’d already swallowed, just barely managing to save the flask from falling and spilling its content all over the floor from his shaking. Broder’s hand twitched, reflexively moving to pat him on the back, but he caught himself and cringed. Perhaps he should’ve warned him instead of just handing the flask over…

Once he managed to get his breathing back under control, Waidwen straightened again and grimaced, smacking his lips to get the bad taste out of his mouth. With a slightly horrified look he handed the flask back.

“The fuck is that?” The unrestrained show of pure disgust combined with the fact that he’d never heard the young king curse like that before, was absolutely hilarious to Broder and he couldn’t help the grin spreading across his face.

“A bunch of Arrack and some Grog mixed together. Sorry ‘bout that, I’ve been drinking this shit for so long, I forgot how strong it really is.” Somehow the first curse had broken a great deal of boundaries and the atmosphere was significantly lighter than before, even as Waidwen was still scowling at the bottle, mumbling something about an assassination attempt on his taste buds, but there was no real heat behind it.

With the tension significantly lowered and his gamble having payed off, Broder felt confident enough to take another one. Keeping eye contact with Waidwen he calmly put one hand on his shoulder, keeping his touch light and taking care to keep his fingers high enough to not come into contact with any scars.

At first Waidwen’s shoulders tightened again, muscles freezing up as he fell silent. Almost immediately though the strain fell away once more, and with a sigh all of his energy seemed to evaporate, leaving behind only undisguised exhaustion. Once all defences where down, it was a strangely intimate moment. Though they’d been physically closer when Broder had pulled the arrow out of his shoulder, there had been an urgency and stress and fear, that had buried all sense of actual intimacy. The skin under his hand was warm, almost feverish, even though it was fall and hardly hot anymore, and Broder himself was already feeling the slight chill from sitting around bare-chested. Though it went against every one of his instinct, he reminded himself that that was probably normal for a guy being the avatar for a god. Someone who could heal from an axe to the back in a matter of seconds would hardly have issues with a fever.

Not wanting to push his luck, he pulled his hand back and pushed to his feet, stretching his arms with a pop.

“Well, I should go and prepare our departure tomorrow. You should rest up, there’s still that feast in two hours.” Waidwen just sighed, put his face into his hands and nodded. Taking that as his dismissal, Broder turned to leave- Only to feel something hit him in the back of the head again. Pulling it off, he saw that it was the same clean shirt he’d put to the side to clean off. A glance back proved that Waidwen was wearing a tired but smug smile. Broder laughed quietly, admitting to himself that he was fonder of the young king than was probably good.

Acquiescing to the wish expressed with soft violence he unfolded the shirt and pulled it on. With some struggle he succeeded. It was clearly one of Waidwen’s, who was quite a bit scrawnier than Broder, so the cloth stretched tightly over his ribcage, so tight in fact, that Broder was nearly certain it would rip before nightfall. But for now, it held, and for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to deny the gift, no matter how impractical.

With one last smile and a very stiff bow, he bid his king, his new friend, goodbye and left the room, dreading the rest of the day a little less.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This should go without saying but just to be sure, don't believe me on anything medical! Don't try this at home! I am honestly working with the rule of cool here. Well more with the rule of more angst = more fluff but you get it.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I'm happy about as much feedback as you can give me. For example, would you prefer I describe Broder in more detail or leave it vague for the imagination? There'll be a bit more description in the later chapters, but it's not much for now.


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